Masking Love
by Masked.Miracles
Summary: Grissom and Sara end up at the Las Vegas Police Department Masquerade Ball and a kiss is shared. That night results in hurt feelings, painful realities, eating disorders, suicide attempts, rule breaking and much, much more. GSR, set back in fifth season


**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, I have never owned CSI and I will never own CSI**

**Summary: When Grissom and Sara end up at the Las Vegas Police Department Masquerade Ball a kiss is shared. The events of that night result in hurt feelings, painful realities, eating disorders, suicide attempts, rule breaking and much, much more. GSR, set back in around the fifth season.**

Masking Love

Chapter 1: Making the Mask

_What is love without lies?_

_What is love without someone who tries?_

_So what if no one is perfect?_

_Does that mean that they aren't worth it?_

_How could she possibly eat?_

_When their eyes still could not meet?_

_How could he possibly want to live?_

_When his love he still could not give?_

_Will their hearts ever mend?_

_When there are rules he refuses to bend?_

_Will he ever regain his life?_

_Will she ever become his wife?_

_Certain rules are meant to be broken!_

_Certain lies are meant to be spoken!_

In reality, lies are just masks of the truth. But certain lies go way too far. How do you know when a harmless little fib evolves into a massive, full-blown lie? Well; for starters, stating that you were stuck in traffic this morning instead of what you were really doing, let's just call it 'sleeping in' isn't going to affect another person. If you were to say… I don't know… rape and murder three people then claim you had nothing to do with it, you may have crossed that line.

All this is what Gil Grissom; night shift supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab was in the middle of explaining to Samuel Martinez. Martinez was the main suspect in Grissom's ongoing murder investigation. Samuel may not be very bright, but he did his research. He had covered his tracks well. Martinez was very frightening; he had a chiselled face, short dark hair mussed atop his head. He was a tall man, nearly 6' 7" with a very muscular chest. If Gil had been anywhere else--not in one of the government-paid interrogation rooms with several armed cops in and outside the tiny, cramped space--he would be very intimidated by this man, to say the least.

"Mr. Martinez, you should take the deal." Grissom stated in the midst of his explanation, "If you admit to the murders, you can save yourself the death penalty. We know you killed those women. The deal is your best option."

"If you 'know' I killed those women, why haven't you charged me with anything? You got no proof!" Samuel's smug smile said it all. He had won. There was no chance in hell Grissom could link him directly to the murders. Being they psychopathic killer that he is, Martinez couldn't help but rub it in Grissom's face. A high school dropout outsmarting an honour role university graduate certainly made for a good day. Reclining back in the uncomfortable steel chair, the unproven murderer began to speak. "Have you ever told a lie Dr. Grissom? Made up a fib about something that aint true? Maybe you hurt someone. Maybe it was with good intentions. Maybe you were trying to protect someone. Sometimes, lies can be a good thing. Sometimes, lies are the best rout to take."

"I've told many lies, Mr. Martinez. Lies that have not only hurt another person, but have also hurt me in the process." Grissom replied tight-lipped, Martinez's questions hitting way to close to home. "But I don't see how that has any relevance. I have never lied about a crime. That's why I don't rely on people; people lie, the evidence doesn't."

"Mr. Martinez." Detective O'Riley cut in. "You are free to go." Samuel stood up, stepping to the door with a sort of victory in his eyes. He paused at the door for a moment, needing to get in the last words.

"Remember this, Doctor; evidence can be used to prove a lie just as easily and disproving one." With this, Martinez slid out the cold, impersonal room and trotted down the hallway.

~*~*~*~

After the horrendous interrogation, Grissom hid himself in the shadows of his office; the start of a migraine making itself present. It had been a terribly long day. Grissom was well into his second shift and hadn't had a decent sleep in over a week. His office door locked, blinds pulled down, the soft sound of 'Trois Gymnopédies' by Erik Satie lingering in the air, Gil shut his eyes in hopes that sleep would find him. Fate, unfortunately, had other plans.

A loud, obnoxious pounding began, interrupting his peace. Grissom's headache was getting worse with each resonating bang. He stood angrily; ready to yell at whatever lab tech or law enforcement officer was in need of his assistance. The door swung open the very second Grissom unlocked it, revealing a slightly aggravated Ecklie.

"Gil." Conrad muttered in greeting as he pushed himself into the dimly lit office. "I have an issue to share in your regards." The lab director paused to check if his employee was in fact listening.

"Well, feel free to share." Grissom stated mockingly. He was definitely in his 'Grumpy Grissom' stage of his migraine.

"First off, the Sheriff is having a company masquerade ball in a week from today. That's next Friday. It is a requirement for all Police Officers and Criminalists to attend. That includes you. Dress code is 'black tie' so I expect you and your team to all dress up. Do not forget the masks. And please, please behave yourself. I want Sanders to watch his alcohol intake. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time. I will inform your team of this information shortly to make sure it gets done." Ecklie took a moment to look over his brightest employee, noting the messy hair, dark purple shadows under his eyes, the rumpled clothing and the pained expression on the mans face. Feeling pity for the old man, Ecklie decided to make his visit short. He wrapped it up with one final warning. "If you or any, and I stress _any _member of your team does not show up, I will take it upon me to make your life a living hell. Got it?" And the bald man was off, not waiting for a reply.

With a sigh of defeat, Grissom went back to his nap, hoping to god this social event wouldn't last long.

_~*~*~*~_

The week went by excruciatingly slow. It was as if every single criminal in Vegas had decided to take the week off. Grissom spent most of his time making preparations for the masquerade. His outfit was simple enough; he had already rented a tux for the event. It was the whole 'social' thing he wasn't down for. He had practically spent the week coming up with topics to initiate a conversation with. Sure, maybe he was pretty good at giving lectures or talking to a criminal, but when it came to a relaxed situation there was no telling what idiotic things he would say. Grissom was so focused on discussions; he completely overlooked a particularly important aspect. He didn't have a mask. Starting to panic, Grissom sought out the one person he knew could get him out of this mess.

"Catherine, I've got a problem." He stated, coming up behind her in the A/V room.

"Mhm." Catherine hummed, reaching into her purse below her and pulling out a simple-style, black half mask decorated with a gold border and gold swirls covering the eyebrow area. Five black feathers placed tastefully top-center on a point of the zigzag outline of the mask. Catherine handed the mask to him with ease, not once taking her eyes of the screen.

Grissom stood there, staring at her with curiosity. "How did you know I'd forget the mask?" He questioned after a few minutes of pondering.

"Gil, I've known you for over ten years now. I think I know you well enough to know you would never go out to purchase anything from a costume store. I would be absolutely shocked if I found out you remembered."

"Oh, thanks." Grissom mumbled, bemused. Heading out, he ambled to the locker room, getting ready to leave for the night.

Grissom grabbed his coat and briefcase containing some long overdue paperwork and proceeded towards the exit. Along the way he passed Sara and Greg chatting in the DNA lab. He wasn't eavesdropping per say, more like catching a few words of their conversation.

"So, Sar, you ready for the partay!" Greg asked with boyish excitement.

"Greg, I wouldn't necessarily call a department ball a party. More like gruelling torture. But to answer your question, yes, I am ready." Sara replied to the adorable, yet slightly annoying lab tech.

"So, what sexy sleek outfit are you wearing?" Greg baited.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and see." Sara flirted in return.

This little exchange was slightly irritating to Grissom. Not because he felt Sara and Greg shouldn't be flirting, but because of the fact that it bothered him that they were. Secretly, he wanted to be the one flirting with her. He wanted to be the man she goes to the, as Greg put it, 'partay' with. But he couldn't. It was against the rules, and one thing Gil Grissom was not, is a rule breaker. Making it to his government owned Tahoe, Grissom threw his equipment inside, got in and drove. On his way home, thoughts of the following evening were swimming in his mind. Good thoughts, very good thoughts.


End file.
